Mist's Edge (The Broken Lands #2) - T.A. White Page 0,103

her. She landed on its back, sliding down until her hands managed to grip tight onto its feathers.

The wings flapped, hitting her on the side of the face. She bit her tongue but held on.

Mist whimpered from where she was clutched in the beast’s claws.

Shea clung to the bird. She hadn’t thought this plan through before she implemented it. Impulsiveness was really going to get her killed one day.

She couldn’t kill the beast with Mist clutched in its claws. It would mostly likely result in Mist’s death as well as Shea’s when they all went crashing to the ground.

Shea waited, drawing the dagger she’d grabbed when the beasts first attacked. She’d need to time this very carefully.

An eagle could open and close its claws at will. Right now, it held Mist lightly enough that the girl hadn’t been killed. Probably because the eagle wanted its prey alive for whatever reason.

Shea waited until they were over a soft-looking copse of tangled branches and vines, interwoven, thin and flexible enough that they might slow Mist’s fall but not be as hard as the ground.

Shea struck, sinking her blade into the eagle’s side again and again. The beast thrashed beneath her. There was a short gasp of breath as it released the girl. Shea buried her blade one last time before pushing off.

Her freefall was cut short as she crashed into the branches, lacerations forming where her skin dragged along the sharp wood. She fell through the first layer, each branch flipping her a different way as they broke under her. She came to a stop, hanging upside down, her leg caught between two branches.

That was such a bad idea. On the scale of bad ideas, it was probably one that would go into the history books.

Shea groaned. Every bone in her body felt that fall. “Let’s never do that again.”

There was a rustling in the branches next to her and then blond curls coupled with watery blue eyes peered out at Shea.

“Hey, sweetie. Are you hurt anywhere?”

Mist shook her head.

Shea closed her eyes. “That’s good.”

“Shea! Shea, where are you? Answer me.” Trenton’s voice came from below. He sounded frantic.

“Here, we’re over here!” Shea yelled back.

Curses sounded from below them and then the sound of a man grunting and hacking at the branches they were incased in.

They’d landed in a copse of boughs that grew tightly together with very little space between. It looked like a prison made of very thin wood.

Shea used her abs to lift up, grabbing a branch near her foot with one hand to redistribute her weight as she wiggled her foot free. There would be no living it down, if Trenton discovered her stuck upside down. She yanked her foot once more and then fell, landing hard on her back. A sword cut through some of the boughs next to her.

Trenton peered in, taking note of Shea sprawled on her back and Mist above her.

“Help Mist, first,” Shea ordered.

He didn’t argue, turning his attention to the little girl. “Come here, child. Let’s get you to safety.”

“It’s probably safest here,” Shea said, sitting up with a grimace.

“The soldiers drove off the eagles they didn’t manage to kill. It should be safe for now.”

That was a relief.

Trenton held the girl as he and Shea worked their way back down to the forest floor. They weren’t as high up as Shea had thought. Her previous calculations had been off.

It was a relief to reach the ground, though she kept one eye on the forest above them. The fear of another attack was ever present. She wasn’t the only one feeling it either. The Trateri they passed were preoccupied with the world above. Much more so than she had ever seen them before. Several soldiers kept watch on the canopy as others tended to the destruction on the ground. Healers assisted the wounded.

Trenton, carrying Mist, opened a path before them. The Trateri moved out of their way as they walked, some giving Shea a bow, others clasping their fist to their chest. Shea gave a small nod in acknowledgement before turning her eyes ahead. The attention made her skin itch.

“Why are they bowing?” she whispered to Trenton.

“They saw what you did for Mist. They’re paying you their respects.”

“I thought she was an orphan, not worth anything to the clans.”

“You put your life on the line for the least of us. It means something.”

She disagreed with the thought that Mist meant less than the rest of the Trateri, but she could see what